


A mother's love

by Yeziel_Moore



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Loki Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeziel_Moore/pseuds/Yeziel_Moore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mother's love is a fearsome thing. Or, in which Frigga takes matters in her own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_No, Loki._

 

 

The words kept repeating themselves in his mind. Over and over again they were replayed. Two simple words that would be forever seared in his brain, his heart and his soul. Well, supposing that frost giants possessed any of the last two. He wasn't betting on it.

_No, Loki._

He had done his best. He always did his best, gave his all, but it was never enough, had never been enough. He was not the son he should've been. He was just a monster who had inspired something akin to pity in an impenetrable heart. No, not even pity. He had been an opportunity, a bargaining chip that had lost his value at some point. A useless relic from a bloody past.

Not even as a tool he was useful to his Father.

_No, Loki._

He wanted to cry but the searing pressure of the void didn't allow him the relief. Even now, falling to his death head on, he was denied.

He closed his eyes in order not to see the nothingness that surrounded him, the nothingness that was reflected in the state of his heart.

_No, Loki._

He didn't bother steering his course. He would die or he would survive, it mattered not to him.

He kept his eyes closed as he fell and allowed his consciousness to drift away in a futile attempt to stop thinking, stop remembering those accursed words. He didn't need the reminder that he was a failure, a disappointment, a waste of time, effort and resources.

He just wanted to forget. He wanted to sleep.

He was so tired.

_No, Loki…_

* * *

 

"How could you!"

They were gathered in the Throne Room, they being Odin, Thor, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. And now Frigga, or someone who looked exactly like her down to the last hair. If Thor hadn't seen his brother fell from the Bifröst mere moments before he would've believed this to be another of Loki's tricks, because this wrathful and powerful creature couldn't positively be his sweet and well-mannered mother.

But it was. It was Frigga and it took every drop of self-restraint in him not to visibly shrink away from her.

Thor remembered one time in his adolescence that Frigga had transformed from a delicate woman into a fire-spitting dragoness. Earlier that day he had decided that ir was a splendid idea to drag his kid brother, who had received no weapon training yet and had barely started to experiment with his magic, into one of his stupidest quests ever. Both of them had almost died but it was Loki who had suffered the most if only because he had been too young for such a thing. Father had been horribly disappointed with him and had punished him severely, as expected, but it had been Mother's reaction that had driven the lesson home.

Thor had never wanted to see such a terrifying thing again. _Ever_.

Fortunately, and he was not ashamed to admit it if only to himself, Frigga's wrath was focused solely on Odin.

"How could you!" She repeated in a voice that was colder than the wastes of Jotunheim, or the winds of Niflheim. Her honey-coloured eyes showed nothing but a stony conviction wrapped in a steely determination. Her lips, which always seemed to be curled into a smile, were now pulled downwards in a severe way. Thor was surprised to recognize that expression; it was the same expression that Loki would direct at him each time he thought Thor was being more dense than usual. It was usually followed by cutting words.

It seemed that his friends had seen the same thing Thor had for they exchanged nervous glances and inched backwards minutely.

Odin locked eyes with her, unafraid and visibly unhappy. Unhappy for being interrupted or for another obscure reason it was impossible to tell.

"Frigga-"

"Don't you dare 'Frigga' me Odin Borson! ***** "

The silence that followed was deafening and incredulous and heavy but it didn't last long. The All-Mother was in a roll and nothing would stop her until she had said her part.

"You said 'no'! How could you say 'no' to Loki when he was literally hanging over his death?" No answer was forthcoming but she hadn't expected nor did she wait for one. "Your son sanity was in tatters, scattered all over thanks to _your_ lies and _my_ complacence! He was barely hanging by a thread and what do you do when he asks _you_ for reassurance? You deny him! You may as well have shoved him over the edge with your own hands for all the good your eloquence did!"

Frigga finished with a huff and Thor half expected to see tongues of fire escape her nostrils and was half disappointed when it didn't happen. The silence returned, heavier than ever. The Queen and the King were locked in a different battle now, Thor realized with a start, a battle of wills that charged the very air around them with its intensity.

Thor was not very brilliant, nowhere near Loki's impressive intellect, and he certainly had never claimed to be, not even at his worst. That didn't mean that he was stupid, because he really _wasn't_ , it was just unfortunate that his thoughts tended to be too straightforward and usually lacked the depth necessary to come up with whole and functional ideas. Despite this flaw of his, a flaw he wouldn't have been able to see before his banishment, Thor was keenly aware of the gaps in the one-sided conversation he was witnessing. Thor already had suspicions about his brother betrayal before, it had been too sudden and too desperate for a being as composed as Loki, but now he knew that there was some semblance of a reason behind Loki's madness.

His line of thought was cut off by his Father sigh. Thor blinked. In less than five minutes Odin seemed to have aged centuries, Frigga too, but she stood resolute and victorious in whatever battle they had fought.

Odin said nothing for a while nor did he look at his audience.

"What will you do?" The All-Father asked finally, an oddly resigned air hung around him.

"I will follow him."

Odin's death grip around Gungnir was the only show of his displeasure. "Be careful then, for it's been a long time."

Frigga bowed her head but never broke eye-contact. "I will."

With that the Queen turned around and vacated the room but not before giving his elder son a kiss and an affectionate pat on his cheeks. For his part Thor watched her go mutely, confusion and worry nagging at him from the inside.

The silence returned and hung around them like a thick fog.

 

* * *

 

Loki had no idea for how long he fell. It may have been days, months or centuries, forward or even backward in time, it didn't matter because time and space was immaterial in the spaces between the branches of Yggdrasil.

What he did know was the moment he arrived at his destination, wherever that was. On instinct he casted a slowing spell on himself in a faint attempt to break his fall. It worked in the sense that he didn't die on impact, which isn't exactly the same as being uninjured. Loki blinked stars away from his vision only to be greeted by a black velvet sea full of unfamiliar constellations looming over him. He could feel rough stones under his back and fine grains of dust under his naked hands. The air was crisp and cold and pure, and it hurt as much as it revitalized him to breathe.

It was the pain that told him what he needed to know.

He had survived.

Had he been in any less pain he would've laughed hysterically and wouldn't have stopped until he chocked or run out of air or both. He was alive.

He couldn't even die by his own terms it seemed. How utterly pathetic.

He closed his eyes, blocking the beauty of the stars from view. Loki knew that he had to get up and get help but his energy was spent. There was no strength in his muscles, his magic was nowhere to be found and his brain felt like someone had stomp on it, repeatedly and with extreme prejudice. And let's not mention his fighting spirit; no, seriously, let's not mention what had been crushed and blown away with two well-placed words.

_No, Loki._

This time he did laugh, a broken sound unlike any kind of laugher and which held no joy whatsoever. The tears that accompanied the sound did so unimpeded by any sort of manly pride. Not that it would've mattered as the only witnesses to his breakdown were the stars and the small animals that lived in the desert.

And Heimdall, but for all intents and purposes the gatekeeper didn't count.

Unconsciousness claimed him and a moment later two bouncing lights appeared on the horizon followed closely by the rumble of an engine.

 

* * *

 

Frigga sighed and bit back a decidedly unladylike curse as she passed by the same branch for the ninth time in what seemed like no time at all. The entirely of this hunt, because a hunt it was even if she disliked the connotations of the word, had been like that. Following Loki's trail was not difficult as her son had not bothered to hide himself or erase his tracks. What was maddening was the lack of a definitive destiny to this nonsense. The trail twisted, curled, went upward, downward, backward, sideway and every other possible way in between.

It was as if her Loki had given up and decided to simply drift away to wherever the Norns decreed.

Frigga's heart clenched in her chest at the thought and she hurried her pace as much as she dared. She hated that she hadn't find her child yet but she had to be patient, it wouldn't do any good to anyone if she lost the trail and had to backtrack, after all.

After what seemed like a bazillion of turns later, many stops and a confusing moment when the trail split in every possible direction, Frigga finally reached the end of the road, so to speak. The vaporous ribbon of green light dashed like a shooting star downwards and towards what she recognized as Midgard after a minute of contemplation.

She sighed in relief at that. Midgard was a dangerous place on its own right, true, but most of its population remained blissfully ignorant of the existence of other worlds, aliens and in particular of Gods.

This wasn't the end though, not by a long shot, and Frigga knew it. In fact, she was sure that the following encounter with her youngest son and the subsequent conversation, which included convincing Loki that they were his family and yes, they loved him very much, was going to be a royal pain in the ass... no pun intended.

In the end none of that mattered, not really. Loki was her precious child, a child of the heart and the soul if not because of blood they did not share, and she would do everything to save him, even or specially from himself.

Without preamble Frigga dropped towards Midgard only with far more grace than both her sons put together.

 

* * *

_**TBC...**  
_

__

* * *

__

_***** My knowledge of mythology isn't very detailled, but I read in some of the Myths that Odin is the son of Bor, so at some point he must've been Borson, probably before he took the throne or became the All-Father or whatever._

_I imagine it would be disrespectful to call the All-Father anything else than his tittle, which is exactly why Frigga did it._

__


	2. Chapter 2

 

Jane paced the clustered space of her workplace-living place-laboratory with all the ferociousness of a caged animal. She scowled rather fiercely as she finished yet another lap around the various desks and chairs in the room, careful, even in her restlessness, not to bump into any of her precious equipment.

What could possibly be bothering this good-natured, if obsessive about her passion, woman?

The answer to that question was currently sleeping on her couch scant feet away from her.

But let’s recount.

The event transpired a week and a half ago; precisely one month, three weeks and one day after Thor left Earth in order to stop his deranged little brother. Stop him from doing what, she was not sure, but taking into account their close encounter with the Destroyer and the haste in which the Asgardians left, it could only be BAD, with capital letters. Then another Asgardian dropped from the sky, much like Thor did, bar the storm. There had been no unnatural tornado or flashy show of lights, only a few weird readings that she had decided to investigate anyway because she couldn’t sleep.

Imagine her surprise when she tripped over a prone body in the middle of the desert while looking for some clue as to what had happened. She had been at a loss for a grand total of five seconds before hauling, with much effort mind you, the unconscious man (alien? God?) on her vehicle. Then she sped home to get him some first-aid because, as ideal as a hospital would be, the memory of Thor’s reaction would be etched in her memory probably forever.

But it had been more than a week and he had yet to wake.

He had been badly hurt, true, but most of it had already healed, and weren’t Asgardian warriors supposed to be strong and pretty much invincible or something? And he had to be a warrior, considering the fancy armour he had been equipped with.

She was baffled. Hell, Eric was baffled and more than a bit worried about her sanity as well as her guest’s health. Darcy was, as always, unhelpful.

Finally Jane stopped, sunk on a vacant chair and exhaled a breath that spoke of great frustration. She rubbed the scowl off her face with her dainty hands and sighed, this time in tiredness. Keeping her head supported by her hands she looked at her unconscious guest from the gaps between her fingers.

The first word that came to mind when she first laid her eyes on him was pretty. But that was untrue, or rather, it was inaccurate. He was delicate enough to be pretty, she supposed, but there was something sharp and hard on his features that didn't sit well with that adjective. In the end she settled for handsome, just like Thor was handsome but in a completely different way. While Thor was a enormous and obviously muscled, he was lean and built for speed and precision rather than brute force. Where Thor was bright like sunshine and open like a child's book, this stranger was dark, like a moonless night only brightened by the pale light of the distant stars. Even in his unconscious state he seemed troubled by something.

And now she was rambling.

She shook her head and decided to stop thinking about the mysterious Asgardian, at least for the remainder of the night. She stood and, like every night, she checked his temperature, which was always a bit too low, his pulse and his breathing. And like every night there was no change in him.

Jane was about to retire for the night when a polite knock on her door startled her enough that she almost jumped out of her skin. She whirled around and was greeted with the sight of a stunning woman dressed much like Lady Sif that one time she saw her but with far less leather and no armour. Jane didn’t need her various degrees to know that this woman wasn’t human, not at all, but there was something in her eyes that spurned Jane to open the door in spite of the voice in her head that was yelling at her for being an overconfident moron. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Eric’s if she was honest.

“Hello, can I help you?”

Frigga smiled at the young woman although her eyes kept shifting to her son’s barely visible figure.

“Yes, actually you can, I have come here looking for my son.”

Jane’s brow scrunched up in confusion. “Your son?” She repeated. Then she caught the woman’s glances towards her unconscious guest and the metaphorical lamp lit over her head. “Him?”

“Yes, that’s Loki, my son.”

Jane’s eyes widened and she paled dramatically. It took the mortal woman a moment before she finally chocked a strangled: “Loki?!”

Now it was Frigga's turn to frown. "Yes, Loki," came the confirmation. Jane was felling sick at the thought that she had harboured, however unknowingly, an enemy of Thor's and Earth. It must've been noticeable because the scowl deepened on the Queen's face, although her eyes softened in something like understanding. "I do not what you have heard about him nor do I know if he has done something to insult or hurt you. None of that, however, change the fact that he is my son and that I love him so please refrain from insulting him in my presence."

Surprisingly, Jane found herself nodding along. She recognized that tone. It was a tone her own mother had used on her behalf many times before passing away. It was a mother’s voice and while Jane itched to start yet another rant about Loki’s evil deeds she was well aware that this particular mother probably knew everything there was to know about her son. Probably.

“I will try to keep my opinions to myself,” it was not a promise but it was as close as Jane could give at this particular moment in time. She had a terrible tendency to assume things and put her foot in her mouth at the worst of times, so she would refrain from signing her soul away. Suddenly she remembered her manners and stepped away. “Please, come in.”

Frigga gave her an amused smile but didn’t comment beyond a polite “thank you”. Jane closed the door behind the Goddess and stood awkwardly next to it, suddenly unsure of what to do or say in the face of Thor’s mother worry over her supposedly evil son. It’s not like she didn’t have questions because, let’s be real, Jane _always_ had questions. What she had, besides an infinite amount of inquiries, were manners, even if she forgot about them more often than not.

She cleared her throat. “Can I... ah, bring you something to drink, or eat?”

Frigga looked up from Loki’s prone form, eyes shining with unshed tears and a frown of worry etched deeply between her eyebrows. The frown softened a bit as the question was processed.

“Some water would be lovely dear.”

With a nod Jane jumped at the chance to get away from the increasingly uncomfortable situation. Outside of her lab and faced with the cold air that came from the desert Jane started to feel better, more like herself, but not enough to go back and demand answers. Instead she set course towards the nearest convenience store. Even if it was just water, she couldn’t give the Queen of another planet tap water. If she happened to be slowed by indecision because she couldn’t decide which snack to purchase, well, Jane was sure she wouldn’t be missed.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have questions; she just wasn’t stupid enough to get between a mother and her child.

 

* * *

 

“How long are you going to pretend to be sleeping?”

The question was spoken in a vaguely amused tone that showed no reproach; despite that, iridescent green eyes snapped open as if their owner had been shocked by electricity. He blinked uncomprehendingly in her direction and shifted his tired body a little, unconsciously making space so Frigga could sit on the edge of the sofa, like she used to do when he was a child. The memory of his mother comforting him after his latest scrap with Thor and his band of merry men plus woman, wiping tears of shame and self-loathing and threading a hand trough his dark locks brought a wave of homesickness that almost left him breathless. The feel of those lovely hands massaging his scalp after all he had done in the past months alone brought a new batch of tears to his eyes.

“You are in no condition to pull this kind of stunt Loki,” sighed Frigga when no answer or reaction was forthcoming, unsurprisingly.

“Why are you here?” inquired Loki after a fashion, totally ignoring the first question and the comment on his health. “ _How_ are you here?” Now he sounded more interested. ‘ _Figures’_ , she thought fondly. He was still avoiding her eyes though.

“I am here because I was worried,” she smoothed a few hairs away from his forehead and valiantly fought off a grimace. Her boy had been neglecting more than just his health. “The _how_ should be obvious.”

“You can transverse the In Between.” It wasn’t a question.

The corners of her lips curled up slightly. “It is uncommon knowledge, not lost knowledge.”

They lapsed into silence again. Frigga seemed content to sit there, petting the son she had thought lost with fingers laced with healing magic that eased his headache and loosened his muscles, stiff after remaining in the same position for more than a week. After a minute of this Loki's body finally relaxed; his thoughts and feelings, on the other hand, were as confused and tangled as ever, probably more so now. Shouldn't Frigga be furious with him? He had lied to Thor, forcing him to remain in exile and not a day later he had killed him, unintentionally, that was true, but it didn't change the fact that he had killed his brother. He had put Odin and worse, her, in danger's way. He had committed patricide and he had almost succeeded in destroying his home planet. He couldn't think of a single reason why his moth... why the Queen of Asgard would be here willingly? Unless she had volunteered to find him and drag his sorry ass back to Asgard and the punishment he was sure awaited him.

His chest constricted at the mere notion that she may hate him.

“Why are you really here?” Loki whispered, needing to know but dreading the answer all the same.

Frigga sighed again and cupped his sunken cheeks, forcing his eyes to lock with hers. It took all of his willpower not to look away.

“When I learned about what your father had said at the Bifröst,” Frigga’s expression wasn’t tuned on friendly right now, so Loki bit his tongue to prevent a protest from escaping his lips, “I was furious. I still am.” _That_ Loki could believe easily. Under any other circumstances he would’ve smirked at the thought of just how much shit the All-Father was in for in the near future. “But mainly I was worried. Navigating the paths around Yggdrasil branches is treacherous at best, even for those with the knowledge, the experience and the power to do it. I couldn’t bear to think about the possibilities.”

“So you took matters on your own hands?”

“Yes.”

Loki gulped and closed his eyes a bit more tightly than necessary. Something inside him that he had thought had died at the bridge - _no, Loki_ \- stirred. “But _why_?”  

“You are my son. Isn’t that reason enough?”

That same something was warmed at her kind words; but another part of him, a hideously dark monster full of sharp edges and cutting angles awoke with an unholy screech of fury, filling his being with pain, pain, pain, _pain!_ And desperation and fury and a horrible emptiness that ate at everything else. And wasn't that funny? How was it possible for one to feel so painfully hollow and still be so full of negativity?

His cool shattered and he snapped. The next thing he was aware of was shouting. He vaguely recognized that voice as his own.

“I’m not your son! I was never your son! I’m nothing but a freak monster that should’ve been put down before it grew to be powerful! Or better yet, left to die as my real father did!”

The outburst, short lived as it was, left him aching and gasping for breath. He was sitting -when did he sit up?- and practically tearing an unsuspecting cushion, which had not been there before, to shreds. He blamed his mot... Frigga, he blamed her. The goddess had taken everything he had said with nary a blink and only a deep seated sadness in her eyes. If possible, Loki hated himself even more for being the one to put that expression there.

“Is that what you think?” Her voice was infuriatingly calm and collected. That tone never failed to both annoy him and make him wish for his armour and a shield and maybe a bunker where he could hide for a couple of centuries.

“That’s how it is,” he managed to say through clenched teeth.

“Because we share no blood?”

“Yes.”

“You think that I cannot possible love you as a son because we don’t share blood?”

“Yes!”

Where was she trying to get with all those pointless questions, Loki could not say, but his patience was running out fast. Not that he would ever hurt her. Everyone but her.

“You must think me very foolish then.”

“W-what?”

But she didn’t answer; instead she went on a tangent that threw him for a loop.

“I love Thor.” Again, what?! Well, of course Frigga loved Thor; everyone loved the stupid blond behemoth. “I held him as a baby, fed him, raised him and taught him as best as I could. He _is_ my son but he isn’t mine by blood nor did I carry him inside me,” she paused briefly and the look in her eyes almost made him cringe in guilt, “or have you forgotten *****.”

 _Oh... Ooh!_ Loki’s thoughts stuttered to an abrupt stop. He _had_ forgotten. Thor was Odin’s son but not Frigga’s, everybody who was anybody knew that, he knew that. How could he have forgotten? Because nobody gives a damn, that’s how. Thor was Thor, Odin’s and Frigga’s son, and that was that.

And he had told her that she couldn’t possibly love a child that didn’t share her blood. What kind of idiot was he? Where were his clever words and his silver tongue now? Lost in some obscure corner of Yggdrasil most likely. Now he had two options:  he could stand his ground and break her heart, again, or he could retract his words, ultimately agreeing with her. It was a no brainer really. She was the only one he still loved unconditionally in spite of the damage her silence had caused and he would never be able to forgive himself knowing that he had caused even _more_ pain to her.

She had played him marvellously.

It must be noted that, while Loki always strove to please Odin and be more like Thor, he had in reality spent more time around Frigga than the other two put together, at least in his childhood. Even though he inherited his cruelty form Laufey and his ruthlessness form Odin, his eloquence and wit was his mother’s mark on him. It was obvious to him now that her own silver tongue hadn’t been dulled by the pass of time at all.

“You are evil... mother.”

The smile he received as a response warmed his frozen heart and was like a healing balm to his battered soul. There was nothing but love in her expression. It was so beautiful that he couldn’t do anything but smile back at her. If his own smile was a bit stiff and watery she didn’t mention it.

Things weren’t right yet, they may never be right again for the royal family, but somehow the path ahead of him didn’t seem so dark and foreboding anymore.

 

* * *

 

**_TBC..._ **

****

* * *

****

_***** I don't know everything there is to know about Thor in the Myths, but according to the net he is the son of Odin and Jörð (Jord), a personification of Earth_


	3. Chapter 3

 

"Father," Thor greeted as he entered the deserted balcony just outside of the Throne Room. They stood there, side by side, silently watching the awakening of a new day, slowly the sky lightened in the horizon and the countless stars dimmed and dissapeared form sight, one by one. This brought many memories to the surface for Thor; memories of standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother, watching and waiting for something that would never happen, for answers that were as intangible as Loki's illusions. This balcony was Loki's favourite place to think when he was feeling restless. Lately it had become Thor's favourite place to think about his little brother.

However, right now he didn’t want to try to understand where everything had gone wrong, what part he had played in Loki’s madness or what could’ve been prevented if he had been a better man earlier, if he had been a better brother. Now he wanted the answer to a question he hadn’t dared to ask before but that had been gnawing at him since that eventful day Frigga had spectacularly chewed out and spit out her husband.

"Do you believe that mother will be able to bring Loki back to us?" He shouldn't doubt her, his mind told him, but his heart didn't listen and he couldn't help but being sick with worry for both of them.

He was surprised to see a smile on Odin’s face, a little on the grim side but a smile nonetheless.

“If anyone can outthink Loki and make him come back on his volition that’s your mother.”

Thor’s mind blanked at the information.

“Outthink Loki?” He parroted stupidly.

In his defence it can be said that in all his years of gallivanting around the nine realms with his friends and his brother Thor had never been witness to such a thing. It was Loki who always lied his way out of trouble, who tricked his enemies into doing what he wanted done or who came up with plans and back-up plans and back-up plans for the back-up plans. If Loki had ever been outwitted then he had covered his shame too well.

Odin directed an amused look at him.

“You are strong son and, as of now, wiser; but you are also very young in the great scheme of things and so is Loki.” Odin’s lone eye wandered over Asgard, not looking at anything in particular. “There are many things you have yet to learn.”

“I know that! Well... I know that _now_ ,” he amended after receiving a particularly heated glare. “But mother? Really?”

Odin sighed but his eye was still shinning with mild amusement.

“Every master once had a teacher. Even the God of Lies had to learn his craft from somewhere. And although you mother isn’t particularly fond of lies, her sharp tongue and faster wit made a deadly combination to fight against, my son; many opponents had been forced to admit defeat in the political arena, least they be shamed even _more_ by her.”

Thor stared at his father. He opened his mouth to say something but ended up closing it again with a resounding snap of teeth. He turned his eyes at the rising sun, a pensive and slightly bewildered expression on his face.

“Mother, huh? Who would have thought of it?” Thor murmured to himself.

 _‘Indeed,’_ thought Odin.

 

* * *

 

It was early morning in New Mexico. In the refurbished gas station that was Jane's lab and home, five people sat around a square table. One side was occupied by Loki and Frigga, on the other side the three humans, who introduced themselves as Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis and Erik Selvig, were huddled, half in awe at them and half terrified for their lives, the latter because of the closeness of Loki’s presence, of course.

Loki took a cautious sip from the strange beverage he had been offered. Coffee, he reminded himself. It was hot and the bitterness picked at his tongue playfully; all in all it wasn't bad, especially as it dispelled the sleepiness that stubbornly clung to his eyes. He surveyed his surroundings, careful to conceal his distaste from his mother ever watchful eyes. The last thing his pride needed at present time was a public scolding for being ungrateful. His attention returned to the humans as yet _another_ question was asked. Honestly! If his mother didn't mind the questioning or if she was merely being a thoughtful guest by answering Thor's woman questions, Loki couldn't say. His mother poker face could rival his own.

He set his empty cup on the table and decided that the distrustful glances sent his way had gotten old. He stood.

“I am going to be on the roof,” Loki announced, more to his mother’s benefit than the humans’. He honestly couldn’t care less about any of them but he didn’t want to say something regrettable either.

Frigga smiled at him and patted his washed hair fondly. He rolled his eyes at her mothering but returned the smile all the same, much to the humans' shock. Seriously, what did they take him for? He may be mischievous and a little evil... _ok_ , maybe more than a _little_ evil, but he wasn't heartless, not entirely.

Loki sat on the recliner with a sigh and had to tug his ill-fitting pants before being semi-comfortable. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to magic them into something better suited for him. Selvig had been gracious enough to lend him clothes and it would be a show of poor manners to transform them... Oh, who was he kidding?! With a wave of his hand the brown pants were longer, black and looked new. They also fit. Happier, Loki reclined on the chair and let his gaze wander aimlessly.

Last night had been a roller coaster of emotions to Loki and he had spent a good portion of the day dreading the moment he was free to approach them. That moment was now, apparently. His anger and disappointment at being lied to for his entire life had not subsided at all, but it was, in certain way, tamer, less wild and less likely to drive him into another bout of madness. He could admit now that his actions since Thor's banishment had been fuelled first by his fury and later by a raging and all-encompassing madness as well as desperation. When he was crowned King of Asgard he had felt as if he was running out of time, he had felt that if he didn't do something drastic to prove himself worthy then everything would be lost to him; his family, his friends, his kingdom, his sense of self, everything, lost forever in the ether. He had been so disgusted with himself, he had hated what he was so much that he had thought... he had thought that by destroying Jotunheim then he wouldn't have to be one of them.

Loki snorted to himself. By destroying Jotunheim all he would've accomplished was to be the only remaining monster. Nothing would've changed for the better. He would've remained a monster and everyone would've hated him. Well, in a sense he had accomplished exactly that, he was hated and he obviously was a monster, by birth and now by his own actions. He could see all of that now, all the flaws in his thoughts, the gaps in his plans.

The second prince closed his eyes. There was another feeling there, a feeling just as strong as his hatred. It was... fear. He hated to admit to such a weakness but his actions had been greatly fuelled by fear; fear of never being able to belong, of being hated and scorned by everyone he held dear. Fear of being abandoned by his adoptive family, just like Laufey had abandoned him at birth for things out of his control. Fear of being alone.

It was no wonder he had exploded. Even now, with rationality reasserted, he felt as if he was walking next to a precipice or jumping in the tight rope that divided sanity from insanity, a rope that was as wide and strong as dental floss.

It was truly ironic that all his efforts to prevent all of that had ended exactly where he didn’t want to end: in him being hated, feared and alone. Well, not exactly alone, he amended. His mother was here; she had followed him, found him and had managed to pull him out from that cold and dark hole he had dug for himself.  Loki smiled softly at the memory before reality came crashing back.

He wasn't sure what was it that Frigga wanted or under what notions she was. He was sure of one thing, however, and it was that he couldn't, under any circumstance, set foot on Asgard again. He was a traitor and a criminal; there was no doubt about that in his mind. And he knew Odin; it would be a nicer fate to die that whatever punishment the All-Father would come up with for him.

Where did that left him then? He looked around himself, at the little town he had half-destroyed, at the reparation being made and the mortals who scurried around like ants, lifting materials, chatting with each other and laughing, always laughing and smiling. He couldn’t understand how they could laugh after what had happened to them, to their homes, their lives, their friends. He didn’t understand them. He looked beyond this immediate place, at the world as a whole. Midgard. Such a lowly place but filled with so much unrealized potential. Barely a week and a half ago he would’ve loved nothing more than conquering this piece of rock, if only because it would make Thor hurt like Loki had been hurt. Now, now it suddenly didn’t seem feasible. Kingship was not suited for him. Ruling was boring, a never ending and ungrateful task. He preferred chaos and mischief and none of those sat well with the responsibility and tedium that leadership required.

Well, it was good to know a bit more about himself, but that didn’t dispel his doubts about his future.

“I will never stop wondering what happens inside in that head of yours.” Loki blinked and focused in the bizarre picture of the regal queen of Asgard climbing the stairs like a commoner. Not that there were many ways to climb a stair but still.

“Believe me mother, you do not want to know,” Loki commented wryly, watching her as she took the other seat.

“I always want to know,” she said with no hesitation, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world and to her it was, a mother always wanted to know what was happening to her children, what ailed them, what scared them, what made them happy or sad or angry, everything. A long time ago Loki had told her everything but that time was in the past. Nowadays Loki’s mind was a labyrinth wrapped into a riddle and where the only key was an illusion.

Loki looked away.

“I was just thinking,” at that Frigga’s smile turned indulgent and something suspiciously like a blush blossomed in his cheeks.

“About what?” She encouraged when it was obvious that he didn’t plan to keep the conversation alive.

“A bit of everything,” was the noncommittal answer but it wasn’t a dismissal so she waited. He tried to organize his thoughts; he had never had so much trouble in finding words to explain something. Then again, he had never been in a situation quite like this one. “I was thinking of the possibilities that lay ahead in my path. They are not very promising,” he added with a sardonic smile on his face.

Frigga looked at him for what seemed like an eternity, gauging both his words and the minute expressions that betrayed his inner conflict.

“They are not as bad as they seem, though.”

Loki’s head whipped around to look at her incredulously.

“How could they not? I am an enemy of Asgard, whatever remains of Jotunheim surely is out for my blood, not that I don’t deserve it, and I wasn’t very subtle here on Midgard either,” he waved his arms around, pointing at the scars his attack had left behind. “They aren’t as bad as they seem, they are worse.”

“Son,” she put a hand on a trembling arm, forcing his attention to focus on her, “I wouldn’t dream of making such a statement without being sure. Things at home are tense but you haven’t been branded as an enemy. Few people know exactly what really happened at the bridge. There are rumours, of course, but they are just that, rumours,” she assured. “Besides, your brother and father miss you terribly.”

Loki’s mouth worked silently for a while until he finally managed to find his voice.

“They want me back?” The question was barely a whisper, wobbly and incredulous but its tone betrayed a grudging kind of hope.

“Asgard it’s not the same without its trickster to keep all of us in our toes.”

Loki looked at her smile in disbelief. What happened next was like an avalanche. First it was a quiet chuckle, then another one but louder and then a torrent of laugher tore itself from his throat. He laughed and laughed until his sides hurt and his eyes were full of tears that were a mixture of relief and a by-product of his sudden attack. Finally the laugher died out into quiet chucked and random giggles.

And then reality reared its ugly mug again.

“That may be true,” and he was smiling again, “but Father is still King. He can’t let my actions slide unpunished.” 

His mother sighed. “That _is_ true, but you can make amends beforehand. Actions made in good-will will lessen your punishment a great deal.”

“Supposing that father lets me make those amends,” drawled the black-haired god.

Here Frigga’s sweet smile turned positively evil. “He will.”

Loki didn’t doubt it. Just as he didn’t doubt that right about now a full-body shudder would be wracking Heimdall’s body.

A sigh escaped Loki and he lowered his gaze; he flexed his hands and green sparks exploded form his fingertips, without any effort at all he made them dance between his fingers, changing its colour to reflect the colours of the Rainbow Bridge. He really, really wanted to believe in her words and all that they implied: that he was loved in spite of how abnormal he was, that he would be accepted back and eventually forgiven, that he had a home and Asgard was it. He wanted to believe it so badly that it physically hurt him to deny himself the option. He had acted on his emotions before and look where it brought him, no, he had to consider his next step rationally and from every angle before even thinking of acting. It didn't matter that he longed to take her hand and let her guide him home like the child he wasn't anymore. Nothing was ever that simple, much less his life. He didn't notice the moment his magic hissed in defeat and disappeared.

The sun was high in the sky, the temperature going up to match the brightness of the star. Midgard was a lot hotter than Asgard, Frigga noted absently as she gave Loki the space he had wordlessly requested although she kept her eyes trained on him, as if afraid he would disappear in a whiff of smoke. When Loki was concerned it was entirely possible. She watched sparks lit and arch from fingertip to fingertip in a mesmerizing dance that lighted his sharp features and thoughtful expression. The goddess couldn't help but smile at the sight. That was a beginner trick for aspiring sorcerers, one that she had personally taught him long ago. It took months for his eyebrows to grow back after his first attempt, she remembered that Thor had teased him mercilessly for years afterwards, until Loki soundlessly defeated him with his sorcery, that's it. She had been surprised that the incident hadn't scared Loki off, at least temporally, from magic of any kind; instead it only fuelled his determination to wrestle his gift into submission.

When Loki’s magic waned with a hiss of discontent that mirrored his demeanour Frigga knew it was time to pull him back from the downwards spiral of his overactive thoughts. She abandoned her recliner and kneeled on the hard surface of the roof next to his tense form. He didn’t seem to notice her but she knew otherwise, he was always alert, even, or especially, around family. She rested her left hand on his cheek and was greeted by the emotionless mask Loki had masterfully crafted in his childhood to prevent the taunts and hurtful words of the court to reach him. She knew that they hurt anyway. The return of the emotionless visage after all that had already been said told her more about his inner turmoil than any words he could utter or any lie he could spin.

“Son,” the word left her lips like a blessing but said no more. Instead she waited for him to meet her midway, for she hadn’t come here to force him into anything, she had come to help and to build new and sturdier bridges between them. With light touches she brushed his long hair out of the way of his gleaming eyes. They were so green, greener than the leaves of her plants under the summer sun. He wore his skin so well that it was hard to imagine that none of it was his natural colour, just as it was easy to forget that he was no more an Æsir than she was a dwarf.

"How can I make any of this better? Let's be real mother, I won't be welcomed back, I'm not a good man, I will never be a good man and I have done too much damage, a million words won't be enough to erase it, a gesture of good-will won't repair Jotunheim or the Bifröst or this little town." He spoke passionately but there was an undercurrent of defeat in his tone that made Frigga bristle internally. Yes, his mistakes had been great, his actions terrible but it shouldn't have been enough to topple her proud trickster, and it shouldn't be enough to defeat him. With a start she realized that it wasn't the tangible consequences of his madness that were weighting him down so greatly but the intangible damage made by centuries of lies, of words not spoken, of hurt.

Frigga almost growled out loud. If she couldn't mend this chasm somehow she was going to strangle her dear husband into an early Odinsleep for this.

“Then do more, still your silver tongue and forget your honeyed words, take action instead, show the Nine Realms, show Odin that you regret what your hasty actions caused. Do not speak, do not over think everything, act for once and allow those actions to tell the true of your intentions.”

If she hadn't been so close to her son she would've missed the flicker of emotion in those hard emeralds, the spark that her words ignited. When he spoke his voice was so soft that she had to strain her ears to hear it. 

“Do you... do you really think...” he gulped and looked away embarrassed by his sudden lack of eloquence, his long hair like a curtain between them. “How can I make this better?” He repeated.

Exasperated at last Frigga grabbed his hair -it had always been the easiest way to still him as a child- and forced him to look at her in the eyes. Under any other circumstances his wide eyes would've made her smile, but not today. When she spoke nothing but conviction left her mouth.

“You can because you are Loki, son of Odin All-Father and brother to the Almighty Thor, prince of Asgard and Jotunheim, God of Mischief and God of Lies, Loki Silvertongue, Loki the Sly One,” as the list grew, green eyes gained a new sheen, a fire that had been all but extinguished this past day roared anew as each title was mentioned; no matter how painful some of them were to his ears, they were _his_ , he had gained them, some of them fairly and some of them had been bestowed to him in mockery. But no matter the cause, he had lived up to all of them at some point or another. Comprehension finally dawned on his green eyes.

"I am also the son of Laufey the Cruel," and how he hated that fact. Carefully he disentangled her hands from his abused hair, not before his mother gave him another reproachful tug though, and kept them trapped in his larger ones for comfort as much as for the safety of his poor scalp, "and son of Frigga the All-Mother, Queen of Asgard."

"Yes, you are my precious son and I know you will find a solution. I have faith in you Loki."

If nothing else it was that last part that did it. Loki's eyes widened in surprise, taken off-guard by her candid words as well as their alien nature for him, his breath caught in his throat and for a painful second he thought he was dying, but no, the pain in his chest didn't come from any kind of physical injury. For once the mortifying warmth that blossomed in his cheeks was welcomed because it encompassed his entire body and chased the constant threat of the frost away. It took him a couple of seconds but Loki once more demonstrated that there was more strength in him than what his lean body reflected. Loki's spirit may've been doused by Odin's thoughtless words and his difficult travel through the In Between, but it hadn't been extinguished. It was impossible to extinguish that which cannot be contained, for Loki was made of untamable fire to his core, as unlikely as that statement seemed, he was volatile and destructive yet new and better things grew where he once set everything ablaze. At the same time he was cold, hard and unmovable and for that he was susceptible of breaking, as recent experience proved. It was a difficult combination and one that worked perfectly, never ending fire turning unforgivable ice into flowing water, slippery and adaptable.

It was like a switch somewhere in Loki’s mind had been flipped, although Frigga knew that the truth was nowhere near that simple for her son rarely was simple. It’s enough for now, thought Frigga, as a mischievous smile started to form on his son’s face, growing more exited as ideas started to flow and take shape in the never ending labyrinth of his mind.

 

* * *

 

Three days later Frigga was ready to start the travel back to Asgard although Loki would not be coming with her. As much as it pained her to leave without him it was for the best. She needed time to wear Odin out, blunt force had worked once but it wouldn’t work twice, the work ahead of her required a softer touch and even sweeter words. There was no doubt in Frigga’s mind that she would make it work.

Unsurprisingly, Loki agreed with her, both of them knew that it was because he wasn't ready quite yet for the inevitable meeting with his adoptive father. It came as a surprise that he decided to stay on Midgard for a little longer, to recover completely he had said; she suspected that it had more to do with the vast destruction he had been eyeing with a contemplative frown for the past days but chose not to mention it. More than anything Frigga was worried about his destination after the business in Midgard was concluded. Jotunheim was not a kind world, it had never been, and she could only imagine how much worse it would be now, half destroyed and full of desperate and enraged frost giants. Regardless of what she felt she was confident in his abilities, physical and otherwise.

“Be careful on your way, mother.”

If she wasn't such a refined lady Frigga would've rolled her eyes. Instead he drew her son into a crushing hug he returned, hesitantly at first, until it was obvious that she was not going to push him away so he relaxed and tightened his hold.

“It is me who should be saying that to you, Loki.”

He huffed a laugh. “I am always careful.”

Frigga pulled back just enough to glare at him. “Only when it suits you.” Loki had the gall to haughtily raise an eyebrow at her. “I want you back in one piece and still breathing, do you understand young man?”

"Yes, mother," came the mocking response from the trickster, which gained him a swat to the head and a chiding look, both of them went ignored by him as per usual. "Worry not my Queen, for I seem to remember an appointment with a certain bridge to get to, after all."

"That too." Frigga tried to keep a stern visage but was soon overcome by emotion. She freed him from her embrace but retained one of his hands in a too tight grip for being casual. Loki caught her distraught expression and his eyes softened, he gently squeezed her hand in response hoping that his own expression was reassuring.

“I will be back,” and that was a promise he would keep even if it killed him, but preferably if it didn’t.

No extra words were exchanged, they had said enough in the past days and more words would only spoil the moment. He walked with her until they were out of sight and with a last hug, which he returned maybe a bit more tightly than required.

"Farewell son," with a last squeeze of his hand the goddess slipped from this realm and into the mysterious paths of Yggdrasil.

“Farewell mother,” Loki’s voice was softer than his already soft tones and it followed after her like magical fireflies and into the hungry darkness of the void.

For what seemed like an eternity Loki stayed rooted to that spot, mind blissfully silent for the first time in... forever really, now that he thought about it. Slowly and almost timidly a real smile formed on his lips until it practically lit his entire face, and for once he didn’t bother to hide it nor did he try to stifle it, for once he didn’t care if it was seen as a weakness, for once in a long time he was, dare he say it, content. Not quite happy but far from falling into that dark pool of emotion that had defined his existence for so long. 

As he stood alone in the desert, as he looked up towards the glaring sun and beyond, mindless of the sting its glare caused to his eyes, Loki dared to hope. 

 

* * *

 

**FIN.**


End file.
